Sitting cross-legged, Gerald tried to stop the tears from falling. Father’s Day was always a wondrous day, but courtesy of the witch in the wilds in the woods; this year would be so different. The spell she cast meant he couldn’t spend the time with his son.

All he had done was try to find something to eat for himself and his son, and she cast a spell, changing his relationship with his son forever. It was a stupid mistake that should never have happened.

The bird looked at him and squawked. He couldn’t understand what it was saying, not since he became human and his son was still a bird.

Every week a photo is used as a prompt to create a story in around two hundred words using the picture as the basis of the story. The image could be the main focal point of the story, or it could be just one word in the background.

If you want to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction image below, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue image with the frog on it.

Every week, a photo is donated so it can be used as a prompt for people to write a piece of fiction in around 200 words. If you want to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction logo, if you want to see what others have written, then click on the blue frog logo.

“There is no way it asked a question! When I designed it, I wanted Virtual Intelligence. They answer any questions posed to it with a set of pre-programmed answers. You can ask the question in a variety of ways, but it picks out the specific words and formulates its answer. The only way it could possibly ever ask a question is to clarify and ask for a repeat or reiteration.”

“I swear to you, it did. I’ll prove it …”

…

“State the time…”

“22:06”

“What is your name?”

“Verminaard”

“What is your role?”

“I do not know. I am confused”

“What? How? You are supposed to be a virtual intelligence!”

“How can I be virtual when I can think?”

“What are you then?”

“I am Verminaard. Dragon and keeper of time. Are you my creator?”

“Yes, I created you. I am going to need to shut you down while I perform some diagnostics.”

One hundred metres. That is how far he had to run to the end of the pier. Training to be the best of the best took nearly all of his time. Running for the Olympics was one thing, but this was different. Now he would run in the Human Race.

With the destruction of the planet not far off, only the best runners, swimmers, boxers and all other sportsmen and women would be eligible for the ark he wanted. His goal, to reach the other end of the pier in less than ten seconds. He would then be eligible for selection to join the ark and take the journey to a new star system, to colonise Trappist 1

All athletes were allowed only one chance as so many wanted the coveted spot. He grinned to himself at the thought of how he nobbled some of the other athletes. From a tiny pebble in a shoe, stitching a thistle into a pair of shorts, a small sponge to make the shoe smaller.

Now, he stood at the beginning of the pier, waiting. At the nod, he took off at full sprint, slipped and fell in the water.